Why Turtle House?

My enthusiastic babble about the house continued right on home to Brandon. He probably felt like a house-obsessed tidal wave had crashed over him (sorry, hon). Being his usual agreeable self, though, he agreed to go back up to Michigan the very next weekend to see what all the fuss was about — along with his equally agreeable brother, Trent. This was the trip when the house got its name, because halfway up the driveway was a greeter waiting for us:

Of course I was thrilled to bits. This was species #1 on the site herp list, and the house’s namesake.

There was also some wildlife living in the walls, in the form of honey bees. Later on, once we’d decided to “go for it” with regards to the house, we hoped to relocate these little guys to a hive… alas, they had already buzzed off (yeah, I went there).

This trip was the first time that we actually got inside the house, and the only word to describe it is… panel-tastic. I had to make up a word, that’s how bad it was. Floor to ceiling in every. single. room.

Among other crazy features: the two-story spiral staircase of doom…

…a sauna in the middle of the house…

…some truly oddly placed leaded glass windows…

…the most disgusting carpeted bathroom EVER…

…a giant hole where the bathroom floor should be…

…oh, and a ballet bar. Nice job, gentlemen.

In fact, there were very few features we actually liked, INSIDE the house. Perhaps the only one was the neat loft with giant wood beams:

Regardless, we were told by the general contractor who visited with us that it was structurally sound, and had “tons of potential.” We later learned to translate that phrase to its true meaning: “THIS THING IS FREAKING UGLY!”

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